Better in Time
by starrysky7
Summary: It's been over a year since the death of her husband. The war's over and she's home. But Clara is struggling to cope with her losses. And her situation only becomes more complicated when she gets dragged into Howard Stark's mess.


**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **This is a one-shot set between my stories The Soldier and the Nurse and The New Avenger, taking place in 1946. Hope you all enjoy.**

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 _"So it's true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love"_

 _E.A Bucchianeri_

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 **Chapter One**

It had been a quiet year for Clara, mostly spent in self imposed isolation, hiding out in her apartment. Her family had tried to convince her to move back home, believing it to be a far healthier option, but the first and only time she spent a considerable time away from her apartment had been too much for her. So yes, it had been a quiet time.

Until now.

"Why am I here?" She asked the man, her eyes flicking around the interrogation room, "Who even are you?"

"I'm Agent Thompson, of the SSR" said the man, "And you are in here, because of your connection to Howard Stark"

"I don't have a connection to Howard Stark" she said, "I barely know the man"

"That's not what our sources say" said Thompson, taking the seat across from her, setting a folder down on the table, "We heard, that you and Mr Stark, are quite close"

"I have not heard from Mr Stark, in over a month" she replied, curtly, "And that conversation, lasting all of about five minutes, was the first time we had spoken in a year and a half. The closeness you spoke about, does not exist"

"So, you have no idea where he is?" He asked, "He didn't try to contact you?"

"I try to avoid associating myself with suspected traitors" she said, "Makes life, so much easier. I don't get dragged in for questioning, as I have nothing to hide"

"What was the conversation about?" Asked Thompson, "If it only lasted, five minutes, couldn't have been a very good conversation"

"Small talk" she shrugged, "A quick, catching up, of sorts"

"Of sorts" repeated Thompson, "Did you argue? Is that why the conversation was short?"

"No"

"Then what was it about?" He asked again

"I told you" she said, "The conversation was of no importance, nothing memorable was said"

"You're lying, and we both know it" said Thompson, opening up the folder, "Because, we have photo's, of Howard Stark entering your building, and leaving, an hour later"

Thompson placed the photo on the table in front of her. The proof was clear, and quite incriminating. But Clara would not budge. She truly didn't know where Howard was, and even if she did, she wouldn't tell anyone. Especially not the man sitting across from her.

"Now, since this was taken a month ago, I'm assuming it was the conversation you were referring to" he said, "So, at least you were telling the truth about that. But, what I'm interested in, is why you lied about what you were talking about"

Clara steeled her gaze, clenching her jaw, as she kept her eyes on him. She folded her arms over her chest, her lips shut tightly. When Thompson realised that she wasn't going to say anything, he continued.

"Right now, you're quite a respectable woman. From a prestigious family, talented nurse, widow of a war hero" he explained, "I think, that the reason you lied, was to protect your reputation"

"And what are you inferring?" She asked, through gritted teeth, rage beggining to bubble within her at his accusations

"I wonder what your family would think of you sullying their good name?" Asked Thompson, "I think, that by going by the assumption that you were in fact telling the truth about your previous encounters with Mr Stark, that a relationship began, a year and a half ago" he proposed, "Which, was when you were still married, was it not"

"Those are incredibly vile and preposterous accusations" she spat at him, leaning forward,

"They are" he said, "And I can understand why you wouldn't want anyone to know that you were cheating on your war hero of a husband, bit of an embarrassment. What, did you tell Howard to wait a year, until the appropriate grieving time had - "

But before he could finish his question, Clara had all but leapt over the desk, her fist flying straight into his face. She heard a crunch, as her fist connected with his skin, and judging my the pain shooting from her hand, she had just down some damage to her knuckles. But whatever damage she'd done, was worth seeing the arrogant look being wiped straight off his face.

Another man came into the room, no doubt another agent, moving over to push her back down into the chair. Thompson was holding his face, clearing to stunned by her actions to formulate a coherent sentence.

"Your accusations, are completely false" she said, indignantly, "And I have no idea where Howard Stark is"

Agent Thompson, still in a stunned silence, exited the room to no doubt acquire an ice pack for his face, leaving Clara to stew away. She was furious about the foul things Thompson had said. How dare he insult Bucky's memory that way. But she was by far angrier at Howard for dragging her into this mess. He made a mistake and now she was paying for it.

It was some time before Thompson came back, and Clara was no calmer.

"Are you going to let me go now?" She snapped

"Just have a few more questions" he said, sitting back down in his seat

"Oh, more accusations of my unfaithfulness?" She asked, bitterly, folding her arms over her chest, "Or have you exhausted that angle?"

"Actually, I was going to ask if your hand was alright" he said, pointing down to her busted up knuckles

"They're fine" she muttered, "Just a bit bruised"

"Really" he said, reaching out his hand to take hers, her eyes narrowing, before she involuntarily let out a wince as he touched her knuckle, "They're fine?"

"It's not broken, and if it's fractured, then it's only minor" she said, tearing her hand from his grip, "It's mostly just bruising, it'll heal. How's your face?"

"It'll heal" he said, "You've got a mean swing"

"So I've been told" she muttered

"Oh, so you make it a habit to assault people?" He asked

"I slapped my aunt once" she shrugged, "She was being quite rude to me, just like you were"

"So, you don't like rudeness?"

"It's not what I would consider to be a admirable quality" she said, tapping the nails of her good hand on the table, "Is this your new plan? Play nice, and hope that I'll divulge all of my secrets on Howard Stark, of which, I do not have"

"So, you really do have no idea where he is?"

"Like I have told you, a thousand times, I do not know where Howard Stark is" she said, "Though, I would rather like to know, so I can knick him out for dragging me into this mess"

"You really are quite fond of physical violence" said Thompson, his lips pulling into a grin, "You are free to go, Mrs Barnes, I will escort you out. Would you like me to give you a ride home?"

"No" she said bluntly, "I'll take a cab"

"Are you sure?" He asked, "It can dangerous at night"

"I'll manage" she deadpanned, stalking her way out of the office

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It was well into the night when Clara arrived back at her apartment, the moon shining bright in the sky as she walked up the steps to her apartment block.

"Good evening, Agent Thompson" she said, turning around to look at him, as she reached the top of the steps, "Lovely night for a walk, isn't it?"

"It is" he said, climbing the steps up to the door, "Just wanted to make sure you got home safely"

"Or, you wanted to make sure that I was in fact telling the truth" she said, "And did not try to contact Howard"

"You got me" he said, taking the final step, so that he was level with her, "I had an alterior motive"

"You're still curious, aren't you? I can see it on your face" she said, "Do you not trust what I said?"

"No, I do believe that you are not currently in contact with Howard" he said, "Nor do you have knowledge of his whereabouts"

"And all I had to do was punch you" she said, "But, you're still curious, you want to know what I talked about with Howard, don't you?"

"I can't deny, it peeked my interest" he said

"I cried, mostly" she told him, "Howard spent most of the time trying to calm me down, I was an absolute wreck"

It wasn't a total lie, Clara had most definitely cried during that conversation. But she did not spend the whole hour, in an inconsolable fit of tears, like the image she was painting. But she couldn't very well go and tell the agent about the kiss they had shared. Or Howard asking her to let him take her on a date, whenever she decided she was ready.

No, she would not share those intimate moments with the man who she had assaulted barely an hour prior.

"I am sorry to hear that" he said, "I am also sorry, for what I said, especially in regards to your husband. I'm sure he was a good man"

"He was" she said, "And I, accept your apology. Well, it's been a lovely chat, but it's getting a little chilly, so I think I'll head inside"

"Wait" he said, awkwardly moving his hand to scratch his head, "I was...wondering, if you would like to go on a date, sometime?"

"A date?" She asked, "But I punched you in the face. Had I known that attracted a man, then I would've punched my teenage crush" she said, "Although, it's probably for the best I didn't. He turned into an incredible bore of an adult"

"Why do I feel like this is your elaborate way of saying no?" He asked, moving his hands to his pockets

"Technically speaking, yes" she said, opening the door, "Goodnight Agent Thompson"

"Wait, I have something for you" he said, pulling a card from his pocket, handing it to her, "Call me, if you need anything"

Clara silently took the card, raising her eyebrow at the man. She was unsure about him, but couldn't imagine having a federal agent on call to be a disadvantage.

Darkness covered her empty apartment, as she made her way through the living room, the path to her kitchen well memorised and easy to navigate even without light. She was used to walking through her living room without paying much attention to her surroundings, having acclimatised to avoiding the photographs on her mantle. The wedding photo she could neither bare to look at, nor pack away.

The fridge provided her enough light to find the half empty bottle of wine, placing it on the counter. Most of the time she would pour herself a glass, each time stopping herself just before she poured another glass, even though he'd never drunken wine. But this time she wouldn't bother with a glass. There was no one there to judge her anyway.

But before she could drink any of it, a gloved hand slid around her mouth, pulling her against their chest. Her screams were muffled, as she began to struggle against his grip, her heart thumping in her chest. She bit down on the man's fingers, the gloves not thick enough to prevent her teeth from inflicting pain. The pain was a distraction, but was not enough for him to release her from his grip. Clara threw her elbow into his ribcage, just as Peggy had once taught her to do.

The man let out a howl of pain, his arms loosening enough for her to wiggle free. She grabbed the wine bottle from the counter, smashing it onto the man's head, the glass shattering as the wine poured out onto his face. It provided Clara with enough time to spring towards her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her, flicking the lock.

She scrambled around her bed to get to her bedside table, pulling out the top drawer and grabbing the gun from it. She cocked the gun, crouching down behind the bed, pointing her gun towards the door that was currently being battered viciously. Her pulse steadied as she waited. It seemed to take forever, though it was at most a minute, before the door was broken down. The second after the man stepped over the threshold, Clara fired, and he was dead.

The gun fell from her hands, clattering onto the floor. Her eyes were glued on the dead body, the carpet staining red as the blood from his head seeped onto it.

If she hadn't shot him then he would've killed her, unceremoniously dumped her body in a river most likely. But she had shot him. And how he was dead. Now there was a dead body in her bedroom.

She'd killed before to save her life. But this time was different. This wasn't war. This man had come into her home with the intent to kill her, and he'd come very close.

She knew she had to call someone, the gunshot would've been heard by her neighbours, and surely the police were already on their way. Her first thought was Peggy. But they were both already under suspicion for their connection to Howard. This would only worsen both their circumstances. So she would have to resort to seeking help from the man who had only recently insulted her.

But the card he'd given was in her bag, that was out in the kitchen, the dead body between her and it. She inched around her bed, towards the door, every step causing her heart to thump even louder. She hadn't wanted to look at the man, but found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his face. Who was he? Where was he from? Did he have a family somewhere?

But these were questions for another time. Right now she had things to do, and time was of the essence. So she pulled her gaze from the corpse, focusing herself on finding the business card. Her hands were shaking as she picked up the phone, taking a deep breath, steadying her trembling fingers, before dealing the number.

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 **Hope you all enjoyed it. I won't be updating this one as regularly as The New Avenger, but I will defintely continue it. Please tell me what you think, I love to hear people's opinions.**


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